Fruit. What a fool I was to think fruit was what I needed. Canvases piled high last night from trial and error, until I gave way to primal frustration. Fruit...no, I need something more. Something vibrant, something...living. A human. Yes, a human! I need a human to pose for a painting. But who? A man, I suppose. Symbol of strength and pride.
Given deeper though, there is no elegance and grace like that of a woman. Such youthful, pale skin. Eyes of starlight. Divine beauty. I need a woman to pose for me. Then this bare canvas shall bleed the colors of her alabaster skin.
YOU ARE READING
Artist
HorrorThrough the broken brushes, ruined canvases, and empty pastels, I write my story.
